The Genealogist
by AiThe19
Summary: Lady Gregory is a famous wizarding genealogist who takes pride in preserving the truth of the wizarding heritage. What if she faces Lord Voldemort? And the Golden Trio? Or Dolores Umbridge? Will she yield the tradition to the safety of the world, or not?


"We must go to that house," Harry said resolutely, "a long time ago she told V- You-Know-Whom something he wanted to know, and he wanted to know, then I need to know too." Every time he almost said that name again, he had to stop himself immediately. They were on the run and after their initial mistake of getting unwelcome attention in a London café they couldn't risk anything like that again.

They knocked. No one answered. They waited, then opened the door and went inside. The house was a giant country house which certainly belonged to nobility once, it was large and beautifully decorated, yet it could be seen that no one was taking proper care of the vast gardens for ages. They entered a dark lobby with a lot of portraits and statues. The heavy carpet under their feet breathed out faint clouds of dust as they trod. There was a wide marble staircase leading up from the lobby. There was a landing just opposite the entrance door illuminated by a giant French window lined by a set of heavy curtains of the same colour as the carpet. The whole house wasn't particularly unkempt, rather, it could be said that the servants didn't manage to tidy everything, or they didn't feel like tidying everything. They made a few steps towards the staircase, their wands out and ready, and they were cautiously looking around.  
"Harry, 's no one here." Ron said, puzzled.  
"Well, well, well," a woman's voice sounded through the empty hall, "Harry Potter… What an honour…"  
"Who's that?" Hermione cried, her wand pointed at the place where she thought the voice came from.  
"I can't quite recognise your features," a woman in a long robe appeared on the side staircase which was leading from the first floor onto the landing; she appeared noiselessly like a ghost, her thin fingers holding on to the railings, "you don't seem to be of any wizarding family I know…"  
"I'm muggle-born," Hermione said, lowering her wand and sounding a little ashamed. The woman descended the stairs slowly and lightly, and when she was standing on the landing, they could take a proper look at her – although through the light, her silhouette was shielding the French window. She was about forty, she had blond hair combed up into a loose bun, bright blue eyes and very white skin. Her dress was grey and decorated and you could tell by the look at the woman that her years of glory were long gone.  
"You are Evylea Gregory?" Harry made a step forward, raising a question. The woman looked at him sternly, measuring him with her cold blue eyes, her mouth pressed into a thin line. "The author of Nature's Nobility?"  
"If you read at least the cover of my book properly, Potter, you would have known that I prefer to be known as Lady Gregory." She said icily. Ron gave a smirk.  
"It might be astonishing for you to hear this, Weasley, but some families do actually pass on titles through generations." Said Lady Gregory, "and who are you, muggle-born girl?"  
"Hermione Granger, Ma'am." Hermione said weakly. Lady Gregory descended the rest of the stairs and turned directly to Hermione.  
"Of course, you must be, I don't know any Grangers amongst the wizarding families…" She said and gave Hermione a very penetrating look. The young witch could feel that the wizarding genealogist was examining every feature of her face. "You have the jawline of a Black and the eyes of a Nott, but otherwise… a completely unknown complexion to me. Curious, isn't it?"  
"Lady Gregory, I'm afraid we didn't come to examine Hermione." Harry said.  
"Really?" Lady Gregory said ironically, "never mind. Maybe next time, Granger."  
"We came here because I want to ask you something." Harry said.  
"All wizarding genealogists are desperately waiting to be asked something." Said Lady Gregory with a smirk, "go on, Potter."  
"We know that You-Know-Who was here," Harry said and Lady Gregory didn't show a sign of discomfort upon his mentioning the infamous dark wizard, "we need to know what he wanted and we need to know what you told him."  
"That's all?" Said Lady Gregory with a frown, "I'd expect you to ask a different question Potter… Taking your past events into account–"  
"Harry has a reason to ask this," Hermione said firmly.  
"I was talking to Potter, Granger." Lady Gregory glanced at Hermione as she was walking slowly up the stairs again, "come upstairs into my library."  
"I don't like this Harry." Ron growled into Harry's ear, "I don't like this at all."  
"Let's wait for what she has to say." Harry whispered back, "she is quite haughty but she doesn't seem to be a Death Eater."  
She led them through the corridor where more and more portraits were hanging on the walls. Her library was loaded– packed with books, all the shelves were bursting in seams, books were everywhere, on the tables, on the floor. Despite all the chaos, a set of comfortable armchairs could be found under the crystal chandelier. She sat lightly on one of them, she sat lightly as a bird, and by waving of her wand she summoned a very very old house-elf.  
"Montgomery, would you be so kind as to bring us some tea?" She asked. Hermione wondered at the warmth and nice manner with which the otherwise proud witch talked to her servant. Montgomery bowed and giving a wide smile, he shuffled away.  
"You treat your house-elf very well." Hermione remarked with a smile.  
"You know, Granger, although I don't seem so, I am not prejudiced against muggle-borns and lower creatures." Said Lady Gregory, and the cordiality disappeared from her voice completely.  
"Are you comparing muggle-borns to house-elves?" Ron growled, casting her hostile looks.  
"No, Weasley, if you'd kindly be quicker on your uptake." Mumbled Lady Gregory as she was sipping her tea. The three young wizards didn't touch their cups. "What I always took pride in was telling the truth. I am saying things as they are. This should be the job of a wizarding genealogist, describing pedigrees with an absolute loyalty to the real state of things. If you're not true to your work, if you falsify the family trees just once, the whole system of who's pure blood and who's half blood is destroyed. I'm only describing. I am not dictating which sort is the more privileged. To your question, Potter, I told You-Know-Whom exactly the same thing as I told you just a second ago, I hope Weasley isn't sitting on his ears any longer."  
"What did he want?" Harry said.  
"In fact, Potter, he's visited this house twice so far." Said Lady Gregory, "the first time was a long long time ago. He went to ask my grandfather, who was the leading genealogist at that time, about his family. He must have been fourteen or fifteen or so. He wanted to know about his mother's family and he wanted to know the connections."  
"Did your grandfather tell him he was the direct descendant of Salazar Slytherin?"  
"I have no idea what my grandfather told him," Lady Gregory answered coldly, "but I presume he sticked to the truth, as any good genealogist should do."  
"Which is?" Harry asked.  
"Tom Riddle indeed is a direct descendant of Salazar Slytherin." She said.  
"He then killed them. The family." Harry said bitterly.  
"It wasn't my grandfather's mistake." She said with a sneer, "he was only telling the truth."  
"What was the other thing he wanted to know?" Hermione asked softly, maybe she wanted to be nice to Lady Gregory so that the lady wouldn't think she was judging her.  
"The last time he was here was probably two years ago," Lady Gregory continued, "he came with a specific request."  
The faces of the three young wizards were filled with expectations to hear the grave secret.  
"He wanted to have his ancestry rewritten in my books." She said.  
"I suppose he wanted to erase the existence of his muggle father." Harry said.  
"What did he do when you refused?" Hermione asked softly.  
"What a bright witch you are, Granger, yes I refused, and I had a bad time afterwards when I tried to explain why he shouldn't kill me. I told him that I was the greatest genealogist of all times, finishing what my forefathers had begun, I collected all the wizarding families into one book and I have their vast knowledge in my head. You can ask me about any wizard and I can tell you whether he has some pureblood ancestry or not. He understood that this was vastly important for his policy and let me live."  
"Has the Ministry used you in the muggle-born trials?" Harry said coldly. Lady Gregory pressed her lips into a thin line and lowered her eyes.  
"So you are basically responsible for all the innocent muggle-born people in Azkaban. A really nice job, the one that you have." Said Ron, his voice full of hatred.  
"I'm not responsible for anything, Weasley." Said Lady Gregory with her voice trembling, "it's the regime. The regime is using my knowledge against humanity. I've never said that muggle-borns should be persecuted."  
"But you could lie." Harry said firmly, "you could tell them that the person who's on trial has some wizarding ancestry."  
"That would be the same as doing what You-Know-Who wanted." Lady Gregory said. "I, too, Potter, have my values to fight for. No lies told about the wizarding pedigrees, that's my most precious conviction, and I am ready to die for it."

"She's quite brave, don't you think, Harry?" Hermione asked.  
"No, I don't think she's brave, Hermione. It's not hard to be a coward when your own origin isn't questioned." Said Harry.

"Evylea, darling, we need you to help us with some more names." Dolores said with her disgusting sweet voice and let Montgomery serve her her tea. Lady Gregory gritted her feet and casted freezing glances at Dolores who was sprawled in her cosy armchair in the library.  
"Let's begin, shall we?" She sang and put a first sheet of paper with a photograph in front of Lady Gregory.  
"Ginea Swift?"  
Lady Gregory looked at the portrait of the girl. After a while of studying, she said: "Muggle-born."  
"Chris Carver?"  
Lady Gregory was studying the face of a thin pale boy.  
"Muggle-born."  
"Halie Jameson?"  
"Muggle-born."  
"John Simons?"  
"His mother was a witch. I believe she died– how many– thirteen years ago?"  
"Hmph." Dolores breathed out with dissatisfaction and had to restrain herself from putting the stamp which said "MUDBLOOD" onto the boy's profile page. Suddenly, her face lit up with beams of wicked joy as her fat hand found a particular page in her pink purse.  
"Hermione Granger?"  
Lady Gregory had a feeling that her heart suddenly missed a beat. She took the paper with her lean white aristocratic hand and was once again looking into the face of the young bright witch. For the first time, she was questioning herself– what should she do?  
"Do you have any particular interest in her, Dolores?" The cold blue eyes were penetrating the Ministry officer.  
"She is helping Harry Potter and because of that she will go to Azkaban when she's captured. If you confirm what I already know, that she's a Mudblood, I will have her killed for treason against the wizarding world."  
Lady Gregory's hand trembled and she studied Hermione's calm photo face once again.  
"So, what do you say?!" Dolores' shrill voice sounded in her ears.  
"She has the eyes of a Nott…" Lady Gregory breathed out and quickly got to her feet. She climbed one of the ladders swiftly and was rummaging through the books. She found one particularly old and sat with it into the armchair.  
"Two hundred years ago," Lady Gregory began, "Augustus Nott found a mistress in south London. The mistress had a daughter who didn't show any magic and who married a certain Granger." She said.  
"So she's–"  
"She's not a Muggle-born."  
"Her parents are muggles!" Dolores shrieked.  
"Yes, but technically, she's not of Muggle origin. So you cannot trial her for treason I suppose." Lady Gregory said coldly.  
"You're lying!" Shrieked Dolores.  
"You can see for yourself." Lady Gregory said and tilted the book towards Dolores. But Umbridge couldn't see anything in the vast cobweb of graphs and family trees, so she just said: "The Ministry has trusted your authority until this day and it has no reason to deprive itself of its only advisor on this matter." She closed her handbag shut and she marched out of the library, obviously fed up. Lady Gregory smiled. There was no man called Augustus Nott in the family tree.


End file.
